Page 77 of The Older Brother
I shake my head and draw in a slow breath for courage. Rowan’s hand squeezes my leg, his silent nudge to say, “You can do this.”
“You left without the legal battle to make things easy on you.”
“Saylor . . .”
“Just let me finish.” I move my hands up to the table finally, but I don’t reach toward my dad. Instead, I keep them clasped, ready for business. “I know you didn’t want me to get hurt any more than having my parents split up already would. But you still left, without any plans for how often you’d see me or insisting on input or parenting rights, which, I get it. You’re a musician, and maybe you felt Mom was the steady one. She had a normal job. She was organized and methodical. She was always thinking about my future. But Dad? I could have used your voice in the room. Sure, there are things Mom is good at, but listening isn’t one of them, and you know that. And there were times I could have used the weight of having one parent on my side in an argument.”
“Honey, I’m sorry, and I understand.” My dad has always been good at listening, or at least he pretends to be. I’m beginning to see that he doesn’t necessarily deserve absolute credit, and there are perhaps cracks in my perspective.
“I guess what I need you to know is that I’m glad you’re finally dealing with unresolved pain. I hope that your meeting with Mom is civil, though I’m sure it won’t be because we both know she will never accept her role in this. She likes playing the victim too much. But beyond all of that, I hope you get what you feel it is you need to finally have closure. I hope you get what you feel you deserve. What you’re worth.”
The invisible grip around my throat sneaks up on me, and my body begins to tremble as my eyes well up. Despite my breath going scarce, I carry on. I’m almost done. I’ve come all this way.
“I just wish I was the thing you felt like you were missing. I wish you had found the motivation to fight a few years ago, when I needed you. I wish I was worth more than a lump of cash to help the band make a new album. Because I gotta tell you, Dad. I think you’ve been missing out. I’m fucking awesome.”
I get to my feet and take in the pained expression on my dad’s face. The warm hand on my back fills me with strength, though. I step toward my dad and kiss his cheek, knowing it’s likely going to be a while before I see or talk to him again. “I love you, and I’m enough.”
Rowan nods as he steps into my side, moving his hand to my hip as he guides me to the exit. My dad doesn’t follow us out, which, deep down, I had hoped he would, but knew he wouldn’t. He has fans now. People to impress. And I don’t fit into his puzzle in a place like this. I never did, and that’s why it was easier to leave me behind.
“I’m proud of you,” Rowan says as I fight to stave off my tears. It’s the same thing I said to my dad, and I know he chose those words thoughtfully, a reminder of how powerful they can be. And my dad will feel them just as I do. He’ll feel all my words. And then, hopefully, when he’s ready, he’ll want to see me to apologize. And he’ll mean it.
Everything falls apart the second Rowan closes the passenger door. I cry hard, the inside of the car a pendulum of silent sobs and heavy wails as I let the poison out. I’m not only crying for my dad but for my adolescence, for the missing gaps I will forever have without having a parent around to cheer for me while I race across the water simply because they’re proud, not just because they see dollar signs and future scholarships.
By the time Rowan pulls up to my house, I’ve run out of tears and have packed the wounds with a certain amount of false healing.
It’s after midnight, and my mom’s SUV isn’t in the driveway. It wouldn’t be unusual for dinner meetings to roll into late drinks and rowdy locker room behavior. My mom is used to playing the game, and she can hold her liquor better than David. That’s if there was ever a dinner at all. Either way, I’m walking into a home that will be empty for a long while.
“Stay,” I hum as Rowan’s chest becomes flush with my back, his hand covering mine as I press the last few numbers on the security panel. The door clicks open, and Rowan follows close as we push inside, spinning me the moment we cross the threshold and pressing my back against the door.
I let my small clutch containing my phone fall to the ground and instantly glide my palms to Rowan’s face. His rough skin is a welcome distraction to my recent past, and it becomes easier to forget when his mouth covers mine, his lips trapping my bottom one and sucking me in.
There’s both a sense of urgency and a pause in time as Rowan’s hands move tenderly over my body, and his fingers greedily begin gathering up my dress.
I wrap my arms around him as his fingers walk along my spine until he reaches the top of the zipper. He drags it down with ease, the tight grip the fabric has had around my chest giving me room to breathe, and eventually the fabric falls to myhips, leaving me bare and cold under the blast of AC filling our home.
Rowan’s gaze locks into mine, his hands pushing my dress over my hips until the black silk pools at my feet. I kick it away, then bend my knee to reach my shoe.
“Leave them,” Rowan says, pulling my hand away as my heel falls back to the floor. He steps back, holding both of my hands in his as his eyes take me in. My breasts bare, nipples hard and begging for his kiss, my breath gains speed the longer he admires me. I’m in nothing but my black lace hipsters and heels, but rather than feeling self-conscious about being on such display, I feel admired and beautiful. Each time I’m with Rowan, I grow more confident with my sensual nature. I like the way he teases me and how he silently coaxes me to tease him.
Letting go of one hand, Rowan turns toward the stairs, leading me behind him as he begins to climb. We leave my clothes piled at the door, and I hope my mother comes home to find them after seeing Rowan’s car. It will give her a new criticism to stew about, her next lecture to prepare. The gall, too, after all the choices she has made.
Rowan walks me to my bedroom, a space that’s been stripped of most things from my childhood except for the pink comforter and pillows on my bed. I haven’t felt at home here for a long time, and I haven’t had a new identity to decorate with for years. I wasn’t sure who I was or where I wanted to go. But now I see it. I see the woman I have become, and she knows her worth and has found her voice.
Rowan leads me to my bed, and I crawl to the center, lying back and bending one knee as he hooks his hand underneath, and crawls between my legs to peer down at me.
“I want you to enjoy every second, for hours.” He lifts my leg and presses his lips to the inside of my knee as his gaze drifts to mine.
“I like that,” I whisper.
His guilty smirk peaks before he moves his second kiss a few inches higher. He lifts a brow, and I nod while moaning a soft, “I like that, too.”
Setting my heel back on the bed, Rowan moves his hands to the front of his shirt, working his buttons open, then slipping the dress shirt from his arms before tossing it behind him. He unbuttons his jeans next, pulling his zipper down as his hard-on aches to spring free. He leaves his pants on, though, instead turning his attention back to me. He scoots back enough for his feet to meet the ground, and as he stands, he drags my legs toward him by grasping my ankles. I slide along my comforter, the tufts of cotton gathering under the weight of my body.
Rowan’s palms cover my knees, then begin their slow, sensual descent all over my thighs. I lift my pelvis, arching my back as his hands move over my hips until his fingers grip the sides of my panties and begin to pull them down my legs. He tosses the tiny piece of lace to the floor, then moves his focus back to my legs, lifting them both and hooking them over his shoulders as he shifts my body until I’m nearly at the mattress’s edge. Kissing the inside of my thigh with his head turned, Rowan pulls his cock out and lets his pants slide down his hips as he strokes himself a few times before guiding himself into me. He teases my pussy at first, barely entering me as he pulls out and caresses my swollen clit with the tip of his dick. I move my hands to my breasts and pinch my own nipples, needing relief somewhere as Rowan barely enters me again.
“Fuck, I love watching you touch yourself.” His voice is rough, and his eyes are hazed with intense desire as he practices restraint, pulling out of me yet again.
“Rowan, I need?— “
